madness. victory. fealty.

an independent, highly selective and nsfw roleplay for The Timelord Victorious -- better known as "The Hound of Rassilon." sideblog and dark counterpart to anywherexwhen. penned by ink.

[hishound]

                                                  HISHOUND

an independent, highly selective and nsfw au roleplay blog for The Timelord Victorious; better known as The Hound of Rassilon, based on BBC’s Doctor Who

penned by ink || 27 || she/her

dark counterpart to and follows from @anywherexwhen (tenth doctor - doctor who)

LINKS: guidelines (featured on main blog) || about victorious || ask || wishlist

OTHER BLOGS: tenth doctor - doctor who || au oswin oswald - doctor who || missy / the mistress - doctor who || bill potts - doctor who || kate sharma - bridgerton || cassius wilds - regency era original character

[alexmey-does-an-arts]

surely he would never

[company]

im so tired of always being right and having the best opinions

[goreprofonde]

| Jeffrey Weinstock, Invisible Monsters: Vision, Horror, and Contemporary Culture

[hishound]

@masterlysamtyler is being hunted by the monster

He stood. Waiting. Scenting the air. He could almost taste the Timelord’s presence on the breeze. Extraordinary. The full breadth of the array of a Dalek’s sensory organs, carefully manufactured and precisely honed for this.

For the hunt.

The kill.

Victorious -- or the thing that had once been The Timelord Victorious, back when it had been a Timelord -- had missed the last two of his little trysts with The Master. An unavoidable consequence of having spent the past several years trapped in an experimentation cell on Skaro. But The Hound knew his quarry well. Knew that The Master was as strange and secretly sentimental as his counterpart had been. He would be back. Would linger.

And so The Hound of Davros was ready when The Master slipped into their secret meeting place. His blue Dalek eye glittered in the low light, and the soft mechanical click and whir of the gun stick pushing its way up and out of the flesh of his forearm filled the air as he leaned back languidly in his seat.

What he wanted to say, to scream, was ‘Run.’

What came out was a sharp crack of plasma fire from the tip of his weapon. A shot meant to kill, that his conscious mind was only able to turn into a warning shot with extreme force of will.

“I thought you’d at least try to make this difficult for me.”

[leneemusing]

[hishound]

NEW VERSE

He was betrayed. Sold out by a member of the Council who had long since grown sick of the war. Ambushed, in the dark tunnels that wind beneath the earth of Skaro.

Taken.

And transformed.

He and Davros had always had a… complicated, contentious relationship, to say the least. To have The Timelord Victorious, The Hound of Rassilon, the thorn in his side once known as The Doctor, now so changed, so vicious, and so very much in his power was an opportunity Davros was quick to take advantage of. And Davros was nothing if not clever.

Partial conversion. And it did not go well. His left eye is gone. Replaced with one of his captor’s making, allowing him to see the world from a Dalek’s point of view. A complex board of circuitry welded into the skin and burrowing deep beneath the flesh, hardwiring the unwilling Timelord into the Dalek hivemind. Every muscle, every nerve, twisted into machinery imbedded into Victorious’ brain, monitoring his every impulse, controlling his every action. Oh, the man himself is still conscious, still aware. Still in agony. But any autonomy Victorious once possessed is gone – except on particularly “bad” days, when he is able to break his new master’s leash.

This vicious dog of war has new masters now. Deadlier than ever before, he is the perfect hybrid between the universes two most dangerous races… And he may just be the only weapon capable of ending the Time War.

Behold – The Hound of Davros.

[hishound]

I’m thinking of taking this new verse out for a test spin… Like this post for a starter!

[rpmemesiwanttosee]

Rough Touch Starters

Include context as preferred! Obvious violence implied.

[GRIP] - Sender grips the receiver’s chin, forcing them to look at the sender.

[GRAB] - Sender grabs the receiver’s arm to pull them closer.

[FORCE] - Sender forces the receiver to sit in a chair.

[PUSH] - Sender pushes receiver forward roughly.

[PULL] - Sender pulls the receiver’s hair or a part of their body (specify for bald or nonhuman characters).

[CHOKE] - Sender grabs the receiver by the throat.

[PIN] - Sender pins the receiver against the wall.

[RESTRAIN] - Sender forces the receiver’s hands behind their back.

[PIN DOWN] - Sender pins the receiver against the floor or bed.

[CAGE] - Sender shoves the receiver into a cage or cell.

[hishound]

NEW VERSE

He was betrayed. Sold out by a member of the Council who had long since grown sick of the war. Ambushed, in the dark tunnels that wind beneath the earth of Skaro.

Taken.

And transformed.

He and Davros had always had a... complicated, contentious relationship, to say the least. To have The Timelord Victorious, The Hound of Rassilon, the thorn in his side once known as The Doctor, now so changed, so vicious, and so very much in his power was an opportunity Davros was quick to take advantage of. And Davros was nothing if not clever.

Partial conversion. And it did not go well. His left eye is gone. Replaced with one of his captor’s making, allowing him to see the world from a Dalek’s point of view. A complex board of circuitry welded into the skin and burrowing deep beneath the flesh, hardwiring the unwilling Timelord into the Dalek hivemind. Every muscle, every nerve, twisted into machinery imbedded into Victorious’ brain, monitoring his every impulse, controlling his every action. Oh, the man himself is still conscious, still aware. Still in agony. But any autonomy Victorious once possessed is gone -- except on particularly “bad” days, when he is able to break his new master’s leash.

This vicious dog of war has new masters now. Deadlier than ever before, he is the perfect hybrid between the universes two most dangerous races... And he may just be the only weapon capable of ending the Time War.

Behold -- The Hound of Davros.

[leneemusing]

BLOOD RELATED PROMPTS

requested by my bestie 

WORDS: 

“  is that your blood?  ”

“  woah—  hold up you’re bleeding.  ”

“  your bandages— you’re bleeding through them.  ”

“  shit,  i think i pulled my stitches.  ”

“  i’ll make them bleed for this.  ”

“  a little blood never never hurt anyone.  ”

“  why the fuck is there blood on the carpet?  ”

“  your nose is bleeding.  ”

“  you can make me bleed all you want,  i’ll never scream for you.  ”

“  you don’t understand,  i had to do it.  i had to kill them.  ”

“  stop fussing— this isn’t my blood.  ”

“  i did what was necessary.  ”

“  why are you bleeding?  what happened?  ”

“  who hurt you?  why is there blood all over you?  ”

“  i think you’ll look quite pretty when you bleed.  ”

“  who did you kill?  whose blood is that?  ”

“  i’m not usually a sadistic sort of person,  but i will take pleasure in spilling your blood.  ”

“  i don’t actually enjoy killing.  it’s messy.  the blood gets everywhere.  it’s just necessary sometimes.  ”

“  it looked kind of beautiful in a fucked up sort of way.  blood on snow.  the kind of thing you usually only see in stories.  ” 

“  i can’t get it off—  i can still feel it on me!  ”

“  just calm down.  breathe.  i’ll take care of this.  ”

“  hold still— you’ve got blood on your face.  ”

“  why is there blood on your knife?  ”

“  oh,  it’s just a little bit of blood.  don’t nutsack out.  ”

“  i’m going to drain every ounce of your blood.  nice and slow.  like you deserve.  ”  

“  i’ll kill anyone who ever makes you bleed again.  ”

“  your/their blood is just too pretty to keep inside.  ”

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ”

“  blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb.  ”

“  you made me bleed on my shirt—  i fucking loved this shirt!  ”

“  leave me alone,  it’s shark week and i got blood on my sheets.  ”

“  should i be concerned about why there’s blood in the sink?  ”

“  do i ask questions or do i just help you clean up all this blood?  ”

ACTIONS: 

[ ALONE ]  for sender to show up on receiver’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ ARRIVE ] for receiver to show up on sender’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ CLEANSE ] for sender to find receiver trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ DISCOVER ] for receiver to find sender trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ AID ] for sender to help receiver clean blood off themselves. 

[ ERASE ] for receiver to help sender clean blood off themselves. 

[ ESCAPE ] for sender to find receiver after they’ve killed someone. 

[ SEEN ] for receiver to find sender after they’ve killed someone. 

[ HELP ] for sender to clean up the aftermath of receiver’s crime. 

[ ACCEPT ] for receiver to clean up the aftermath of sender’s crime. 

[ FOUND ] for sender to discover receiver covered in blood. 

[ EXPOSE ] for receiver to discover sender covered in blood. 

[ ATTACK ] for sender to stab or shoot receiver. 

[ WOUNDED ] for receiver to stab or shoot sender. 

[ BROKE ] for sender to punch receiver hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ INJURE ] for receiver to punch sender hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ WITNESS ] for sender to see receiver get hurt enough to bleed.  

[ WATCH ] for receiver to see sender get hurt enough to bleed. 

[ RETALIATE ] for sender to make receiver’s attacker bleed. 

[ DEFEND ] for receiver to make sender’s attacker bleed. 

[ SURVIVE ] for sender to realize receiver is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[ FABRIC ] for receiver to realize sender is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[hishound]

ooc: Going to be over here for a bit! I’m going to try to clear out my drafts, but MOSTLY, the lovely @venusexstillhaven reminded me of an AWFUL plot I once dreamed up, so I’ll be developing that verse… 😈😈😈

[anywherexwhen]

“What have they done to you?”

[from this prompt]

The Victorious forced himself to lift his head the mere fraction that the genetic conversion unit allowed. The young Time Lord's face and torso were a mass of bruises, black blood leaking from the corners of his mouth and the lacerations crisscrossing his skin beneath the complex of wires that bound him to the machine.

His one golden eye, glittering with the light of regeneration, struggled to focus on the figure standing before him, but the bright blue orb, housed in a round metal casing and fused to the left side of his face with the same golden metal his captors used for their armor, swiveled in its socket, hissing and clicking mechanically as it contracted, data flashing across its interior screen.

Scanning...

Searching databanks...

Analysis...

NAME: Rassilon

AGE: Unknown

SPECIES/PLANET OF ORIGIN: Timelord, Gallifrey

ALIASES: Lord President of Gallifrey. First Earl of Prydon. Rassilon the Resurrected. Father of the Vortex.

More data continued to pour across the screen, almost faster than The Victorious could process it. Almost. But he could feel whatever implants Davros' little pets had slid into his skull over the past several months working to capture and redirect all the necessary information. Dimly, through the pain and the ever thickening fog of sedatives, he had to admit, Dalek technology truly was a wonder of warcraft. And he was part of that... Or... He would be, soon enough...

The Victorious opened his mouth, trying to speak... grasping desperately onto one word. One final, desperate hope.

"F... fa... ther..."

The machine around him, sensing the sudden shift in the Time Lord's brainwaves, reacted instantly -- bright arcs of energy flashed out from nodes arranged around the device, and The Victorious screamed, a sound of raw rage and torment as the electricity coursed through him. More black blood geysered over his lips, as he fell back, slumping into his bonds choking and coughing.

But he was laughing. Smiling. A broken, bloody smile, that spread slowly across the young lieutenant's face. His two eyes -- one Time Lord, one Dalek -- glittered with the rage of war in the dim lights of the laboratory...

"I... kn...ew... you'd... c-come..."

[anywherexwhen]

[ TEND ] (from badwolf!rose :))

[settling dust || accepting]

"How bad is it?"

The Hound was laid out on the bed, his watchful golden eye fixed on The Bad Wolf as she bent over him, soft fingers moving deftly over his injuries. She had sat crouched over him in near perfect silence for almost a quarter of an hour, carefully cleaning and bandaging his few remaining superficial wounds, and while she still maintained that familiar, angelic exterior, these days it was a little harder for The Victorious to read the expression in those brilliant Vortex-colored eyes.

The damage was... extensive. His most recent infiltration mission into the heart of Skaro had skidded a little too close to the kamikaze, even for The Victorious' twisted tastes. He'd spent months in a Dalek experimentation cell, and by the time he'd been found...

His one blue eye swiveled in its golden socket, the artificial lens scanning The Bad Wolf's face as the Dalek technology tried and failed to pull any information on her from the Hive's database. Golden cybernetics spiderwebbed across the left side of The Victorious' face and neck, like a metal tattoo of a circuit board. The skin beneath the wiring was still red and raw where it had been welded into the Timelord's flesh. They continued down across his bare chest and back, before vanishing into the sub-dermal layers. Every inch of his body ached, and it was only here in the privacy of their quarters that he allowed himself to feel that pain. He winced, closing his calloused hand over The Bad Wolf's as she trailed her fingers over his augmented cheek.

He flashed her a wry grin. "How's this for monstrous?" he teased, before his expression sobered. "They said I'm going to be alright. You don't have to keep watch over me... I'm fine, love... I-... I will be fine..."

[memesomething]

high pain tolerance starters

“[Name], you’re bleeding.”

“How long has it been like that?”

“Did you dislocate a finger?”

“You’re slurring.”

“They say you almost died. You left it that late.”

“You’re snapping. Headache again?”

“You’re in a bad mood. Are you in pain?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Hey, why are you walking like that?”

“That’s a lot of swelling.”

“Where did you get that bruise?”

“Whose blood is that?”

“When you say your pain’s ‘4 out of 10′, that’s a normal person’s ‘8 out of 10′. We’re going to the hospital.”

“How did you not notice?!”

“If it hurts, it hurts.”

“I know you can manage it, you just don’t *have* to.”

“Holy shit, how long have you had this?!”

“[Name]? [Name]! Hey!”

“We’re a team. You need to tell me about this sort of thing.”

“That’s … a lot of blood, is that - oh, fuck.”

“Hey! Hey! Stay awake, okay? Stay awake.”

“It would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.”

“You can’t keep hiding this stuff.”

“I need to be able to trust you to tell me when you’re hurt.”

[shesarainbeaux-deactivated20221]

it’s okay to be driven insane by lust for me don’t be shy

[hishound]

ooc: Mmmm I oughta make a promo for Victorious…

[hishound]

i should kill you. 

[arkham city || accepting]

Victorious leaned back, staring up into Rassilon’s deep, icy gaze as he lay pressed close against the elder Timelord’s chest. He tilted his head slightly, arching like a cat to push his skull against Rassilon’s palm, feel the fullness of the man’s fingers running through his hair. Lying there in the silent dark, it was so easy to pretend he was a tame thing. That this was easy. That they were soft.

“You can’t…” He kissed the man’s wrist, his golden gaze flickering like candles. “I won’t be parted from you. Not for anything. I suppose you could kill me… send me away… But I’d miss you too much… I’d only come back…”